A Heart for the Taking (56 page)

Closing her ears to Francois’ wheedling voice, Micaela stared unseeing down at the wet courtyard. She already knew how this little tête-à-tête was going to end—Francois would get his horse. A rueful smile suddenly curved her mouth. She didn’t know why she resented Francois’ actions so very much; maman would do the same for her if she expressed a yearning for a new gown, or even a new horse, no matter how outrageously expensive. Perhaps it was because Francois did it so regularly and took maman’s generosity as his right?

Telling herself that there was nothing she could do about Francois’ spendthrift habits, she turned her thoughts to the disturbing letter announcing Hugh Lancaster’s imminent arrival in the city. Lisette had met him a few times over the years, but Micaela had only met him this past September, when Jean had reluctantly invited Lancaster to dine and stay the night at the Dupree plantation, some miles below New Orleans. Even now, several months later, she could still feel the powerful jolt of awareness that had gone through her when Hugh Lancaster, a tall, powerfully built young man of thirty, had politely bent over her hand and brushed his lips across her suddenly sensitized flesh, his cool gray-eyed glance moving indifferently over her.

Micaela, though unmarried at an age when most Creole daughters were already wives of many years and mothers of hopeful families, was not used to handsome young men looking at her in that particularly dismissing manner. Almost without fail, there was a glint of admiration in their eyes when they met her and, without being vain, she had expected no less from Hugh Lancaster. That he had seemed utterly indifferent to her had been something of a shock, especially when she saw the charming manner with which he had greeted and conversed with Lisette. Of course, Lisette had been clearly pleased to see him, while the remainder of the family and been stiff and icily polite.

Micaela had told herself repeatedly that it did not matter that Hugh Lancaster did not hold her in high esteem—after all, he was an
Americain.
What did she care for his opinion of her?

Only to herself would she admit that the tall, broadshouldered American had, despite her will to the contrary, piqued her interest. He was very different from the Creole gentlemen whom she had known all her life, although with his black hair and olive complexion, he had the look of the Creole—especially those of Spanish blood. Whether it was his commanding height—at six feet he towered over all of the Duprees—or the startling impact of those thickly lashed gray eyes in that dark face, or the cool, precise way he talked as opposed to the excited volubility of her uncle and Francois, she couldn’t tell. But something about him awoke an odd feeling deep within her—a feeling that none of her many Creole suitors had ever aroused—and it frightened her. She scowled, suddenly angry at herself. She did
not
want to think about Hugh Lancaster!

Micaela had not been paying attention to the conversation between Lisette and Francois, but the moment she heard him exclaim, “
Mon
Dieu!
You are not serious!” she knew exactly what caused his outburst—maman had obviously told him of Hugh’s plan to move to New Orleans.

Micaela swung around and watched his face as he fin
ished reading the letter, all signs of his merry smile and light mood vanishing. His face pale with anger, he glanced toward Lisette. “Why did he write to you? Does the swine have no manners? It is to
mon oncle
that he should have imparted this news.”

Seeing that her mother was groping for a tactful way to explain the probable reasons for Hugh’s actions, Micaela said swiftly, “It does not matter to whom he has written. All that matters is that he is determined to move to New Orleans within the next few months.”

Francois jumped up from the settee. “I will not have that overbearing
Americain
snooping in our business! From the very beginning the Duprees and Gallands have always controlled this end of the partnership—without interference from the Lancasters. I will not have it!
Sacre bleu!
To have him looking over my shoulder all the time. It is insupportable!”

Micaela said nothing, merely watching as her brother raged about the room, his handsome features tight with fury. She did not blame him—there was a certain amount of truth in what he said.

In the very early 1780s when Christophe Galland, John Lancaster, and Renault and Jean Dupree had formed Galland, Lancaster and Dupree, it had been decided, as Francois had said, that the Galland and Dupree partners would handle all the affairs in New Orleans. This had been agreed upon simply because they were residents and could deal with the local officials, the overtly suspicious Spaniards—something that John Lancaster, as an American, could not.

John Lancaster might have owned fifty-five percent of the new partnership, but without Christophe Galland and the Dupree brothers he would not have been able to freely do business in New Orleans and so he had wisely given the Creole partners carte blanche there. But it was Lancaster, headquartered upriver in Natchez, who procured the majority of the raw products that were barged down the Mississippi River to New Orleans and that were loaded onto the
ships for export. It was Lancaster, too, who dispersed most of the goods that were carried in the holds of the ships on their return journey to New Orleans to eager American buyers. For nearly twenty years, it had been a very profitable partnership and it had worked exceedingly well, because Lancaster astutely stayed in Natchez and, with scant interference, let the Creole faction run the New Orleans end. But apparently, that was about to change.

Three years ago John Lancaster, thinking to retire, had sold Hugh a forty-five-percent interest in the partnership, retaining only a ten-percent interest for himself. Hugh had acted as his stepfather’s agent for a number of years and already had a keen understanding of the business, at least the Natchez end of things, but since then with increasing frequency he had been asking many pointed questions about the affairs of the New Orleans portion of the business. Considering that Hugh was now the largest single shareholder, his deepening interest was justified, but both Micaela’s grandfather and uncle had been highly affronted by the situation. And while she had listened to them rail against what they claimed to be Hugh’s unwarranted intervention in affairs that were none of his business, she had privately thought his visits and queries not exactly
un
reasonable—annoying and irritating perhaps, but not totally without justification.

Her grandfather’s death, however, seemed to have engendered in Hugh Lancaster an acute concern about the future of the partnership. Micaela suspected that it was because of the long-existing hostility that existed between Hugh and her uncle Jean. Christophe Galland had acted as a buffer between the two younger men, but his death had forced them to deal directly with each other.

As his only child, Lisette had inherited Christophe’s remaining shares and, not inclined toward business herself, she had, not unnaturally, asked her brother-in-law to handle her shares, just as he did his brother’s for Francois and Micaela. With John Lancaster preferring these days to let Hugh
run things, Hugh and Jean, as the two active principals, were almost continually at odds—the shares owned by De Marco and Husson were nominal and their dabbling in the business was perfunctory. The situation between Hugh and Jean, however, was most unpleasant, especially when coupled with the general animosity most Creoles felt toward Americans, which was now further exacerbated by the sale of the Louisiana Territory to those same despised Americans.

Growing weary of Francois’ increasingly tiresome tirade against the American, she glanced back at him and commented, “Francois, you are beginning to repeat yourself. I think that you have made your feelings about Monsieur Lancaster quite clear to both maman and me. Obviously, you are not happy at the prospect of Monsieur Lancaster living in the area, but there is nothing that maman and I can do about it. I suggest that you take your views to Monsieur Lancaster.”

“Micaela!” exclaimed Lisette sharply. “Do not even suggest such a thing! It would be rude and uncalled for ... and ... and just not wise.”

Micaela was instantly ashamed of herself, knowing what her mother had left unsaid. Francois’ hot temper was notorious and though he had just turned twenty at the beginning of the month, he had already fought two duels. Fortunately, they had both been with high-spirited young men his own age over trifling matters and no one had been seriously hurt. Hugh Lancaster’s skill with both pistol and sword, however, was well known up and down the Mississippi. If Francois were to provoke the older man to a duel ... Micaela’s mouth went dry and she cursed her unruly tongue.

Francois looked from one woman to the other. He drew himself up stiffly. “You think that I would deign to challenge Hugh Lancaster to a duel,
oui
?” Fierce pride glittering in his dark eyes, he spat, “You have nothing to fear—I would not sully my hands fighting with an
Americain
!”

“That is very high minded of you,” Lisette said gently, “but if you do not wish to inadvertently provoke a quarrel
with him, I would suggest that you, if not graciously, at least politely, accept the fact that he is moving to New Orleans.”

Francois grimaced, silently acknowledging the wisdom of her words. Sending a sheepish grin to both women, he muttered, “I have been acting rather a fool, haven’t I?”

Micaela smiled warmly back at him. Francois’ mercurial moods were one of his charms. A teasing twinkle in her eyes, she said lightly, “Since I do not intend to risk another display such as we have just seen, I shall not answer that question.”

Francois laughed and, bowing to first one and then the other, he said, “Forgive me! I let my vile temper rule me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,
mon fils,”
Lisette said fondly. “It is understandable that you would be upset by the news, but we must accept the fact that Hugh Lancaster will be living in the city and that he will, no doubt, be taking an even more active interest in the business.”

Francois sat down once more by his mother. Shaking his head, he said wryly, “Well, if you think that I took the news badly,
mon Dieu!
I do not even want to consider how
mon
oncle
will take it when he finds out! We should be grateful that he is out of the city until tomorrow. At least we will not have to face his rage today.”

*     *     *

It happened that the family had more of a respite before facing Jean’s expected displeasure at the news than they had thought. He had been due back from the Dupree plantation the next day, but that very afternoon a servant had appeared with a note from him, informing Francois that it would be three days hence, on Thursday, before he returned. By tacit agreement no one sent a return message to him revealing Hugh Lancaster’s intentions.

On Friday morning they were still at breakfast, seated around a small table, considering how to break the news, when the door to the pleasant room was suddenly flung
open. His dark eyes blazing, his normally even features twisted with outrage, Jean Dupree burst into the room. “Do you know,” he demanded in savage accents, “who just walked up to me on Chartres Street?
Hugh Lancaster!”